Chief broke the padlock that hung from the front door of the Blackney residence with the bolt cutters he kept in a toolbox behind the seat of his truck. Moss carried the chisel and sledgehammer also kept there. Together they trudged down the dark hallway, through the house, to the cellar door. After switching on the light they descended the stairs. 

The cellar was just as Chief remembered it: the ceiling covered in candle soot; work bench flecked with burnt sienna brown- the color of dried blood; tool box in the same corner; color chalk mixed with the dirt of the floor. The rags that had once been bunched into the corner by the toolbox, were gone.

Chief turned to Moss and noticed he was soaking up the atmosphere. Nothing escaped Moss's observation. He focused on every detail of the cellar, finishing up with the ceiling over head.

“I’ll be damned,” Moss whispered.

“What?”

“They performed rites down here.”

Chief nodded. He glanced about him one more time.  “Furnace wall.”

They searched until they found the most recently applied mortar, then Moss held the chisel while Chief swung the hammer. Minutes later, the stone broke free to expose a chamber build deep into the rock sidewall of the furnace.

Chief reached inside and pulled out the book and handed it to Moss. He shone the flashlight into the hole further and noticed a second manuscript. He pulled it out as well, and then turned to Moss who was busy flipping through the pages of the first.

“It’s a log,” Moss said. “Do you realize how long I’ve been looking for this?”

“Let me guess.” Chief slipped down next to him. “Thirteen years?”

Moss nodded. “Thirteen long years. Now that I got this I can walk right into Perkins’s office and shove it straight up his ass.”

Chief smiled. “What’s it say?”

Moss skimmed the pages. “The entries change handwriting periodically. It must be passed from cult official to cult official. It’s a detailed accounting of the cults activities up to 1907, when the entries stop abruptly.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Fred walled that book in the day he killed his parents.”

“It would be in keeping with his state of mind at the time. A complete break from the cult. Unfortunate though... No entries on Jonas. Back to square one, buddy. What’s that?” he asked when he noticed the second book.

Chief glanced through the book he held. “It’s Fred’s journal,” he stated solemnly. Then he looked at Moss. “It picks up where that one leaves off- including Jonas.”

Moss grinned. “Jackpot!”

Moss flipped through the pages of the book in his possession. “Names and rank–”

“What?” Chief asked when he noticed Moss's soured expression.

“These can’t be real names.”

“Oh?” Chief glanced over his shoulder. “Aaxon...Abelincadt...Akritirion... no I don’t think so.

“Coded names...” Moss said quietly. “Let’s see here.” He returned to the pages of the book. “Describes the rituals...how they evolved. First starting with the mutilation of animals, strays, even stolen pets in the preparation for the “Coming” or the great “Shifting.”  Wonder what’s shifting aside from their gray matter?” he muttered after skimming several pages more.

Chief opened the book he held and skimmed through some of it. After several solemn moments he said quietly. “Jesus, Mort.”

Moss glanced up from his own reading. “What is it?”

“Most of the children–damn them,” Chief stated, anger in his eyes. “Most of the children were given to the cult by their parents. The ultimate sacrifice for a better placement at the side of the....” Chief looked at Moss intently. “Fred describes it as, the Hell Dog. It’s the connection all right, Mort. What’s that book say?”

Moss looked through. “A great and powerful Master is mentioned- no Hell Dog. Must be Fred’s pet name. Does that book mention which children?” Moss asked, his own thoughts retreating to his past and the murder investigation–never completely solved– thirteen years ago.

“Yes. A detailed account. Fred doesn’t even bother with the code names. Stevens wasn’t one of them. Neither was Kyle Sanders. They were kidnapped.” He sighed. “We were right about Danny Perrine.  David gave him up to the cult. Sonya knew nothing about it.”

Chief rubbed his throbbing temples. “Shit.”

Moss stared at him. “We suspected that all along, Bob. It was Bartlett’s way of keeping it from spurring an investigation. Jonas was the one who bungled the master plan by taking Charley and involving you. So, what do you want to do?”

Chief looked up. “What can we do, Mort? The only solid evidence we have is a book written by a mad, escaped fugitive. Hell that log there doesn’t give any real names, and it hasn’t been updated since 1907.”

“That may be, but once we take care of Blackney, we’ll have enough evidence on the cult to warrant reopening that investigation.” Moss looked intently at Chief. “It’s been thirteen years, Bob. It’s the next cycle.”

“Bartlett is dead, Mort.”

“You still think this is all about Bartlett and Jonas? That it begins and ends there?”

Chief was silent at first, then he asked quietly, “What’s the earliest entry anyway? I’d like to know what we are dealing with.”

Moss flipped to the beginning of the book. “April 11, 1692.”

Chief became quiet and contemplative. “Okay. So you are right, it predates Bartlett. Christ Mort.” Broden leaned against the wall and frowned. “I wonder if there’s a significance to that date?”

“Why?”

“That’s the same day that Fred killed his parents.”

Moss stared at him. “You think he’s saving that date for Kelly?”

“I don’t know. If this is about him and the cult, and his release from the cult, that date would have significance to him. What else does it say?”

Moss looked over the pages. “Says here that the cult was an off-shoot underground society relocated from Salem.”

“You’ve got to be kidding?!” Chief expelled, sarcastically. “You going to tell me next that they’re witches?” Broden cracked  smile. “Thirteen years ago you suggested they were vampires.”

Moss looked up sharply, “I’m not suggesting they are witches. But they were partly responsible for the witch trials. Spreading the rumors. Ruling by blackmail and terror, until the local law got wise and ran them out.” Moss continued to flip through the book as Chief looked on. Moss glanced at Chief over the book. “I never said they were vampires, Bob. Just that they may have taken the blood from those boys for their own consumption.” He returned to the book. “It seems like each successive generation became increasingly more violent. Part of the ‘Coming’ or the ‘Shifting.’” Mort stopped. He sifted through several pages quietly digesting their content.
“What is it?” Chief asked unnerved by his expression.

Moss looked up, scowling.  “So happens this book mentions the 13-year cycle we ran across in ’23. The murders we attributed to Barry Bartlett including Doug Manning. It also mentions a practice of the Death Watch. Self Sacrifices Bob. Suicides....” Moss trailed off. 

“What is it?”

“Soul acquisition. ‘only by exposing the victim to their unattainable desires’.” Moss broke off and looked at Chief. “Their last wishes, are the souls attainable through the ultimate domination. Death. They drained the blood of these sacrifices in order for the rest of the cult to gain power through both the blood and the souls of the slain. When that wasn’t enough...” Moss continued reading. He looked up at Chief, his expression severe.

“What?”
“They mention the breeding of a great cat that stalks the shadows. There’s detailed genealogy, names all coded of course, but they were breeding a killing machine for when the blood sacrifices will be necessary to further the Coming.”

“Make a wish,” muttered Chief Broden. “They set him to killing–”

“They bred him to kill, Bob. They bred the tiger in him–their killing machine... to collect whatever he collected off the dead. That also explains why the rape is necessary to him. It’s not necessarily lashing out at his mother. It’s his way of finding a pathway to her soul. Soul acquisition.” Moss read on. “Seems the cult is heavily into recreating past lives as well.”

“They twisted him... his parents. Through abuse... until he split in two. How could they know it would take? Or how to do it?”
“How could they not? There are definite profiles out there. Mass murderers... serial killers... plenty of fodder in psyche wards around the globe. Apparently the human mind is pliable." 

“Tell you what Mort.” Chief  was noticeably disturbed by both the readings and the surroundings. “Let’s take the log and the journal back to my house. We’ll work through it there.”

“This place is getting to you, isn’t it?”

Chief slid Moss a sideways glance. “I guess it is at that. I’ll tell you one thing, this better work.”

“I hope it does too, my friend.”

“You don’t understand, Mort.”

Moss looked at him. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve decided to send Kelly home with her Aunt after the wedding. Fred won’t be able to find her there.” He gave Moss a heavy look. “I’m tired of watching my child suffer through this. And I refuse to use her as bait any longer.”

“She was never bait, Bob.”

“Oh no? We haven’t been able to make any progress against him until he moves on her first.”

“I can understand that–”

“Now that we have an alternate lead, I’m feeling a little better. We’ll put the pieces together at my house. Then look up that Smiley character.” Chief looked at Moss. “I should have listened to you in ’22. You were right about Fred. Those heifers were a call for help and I let it go.”

“There was no evidence against him then, Bob. Just a hunch. You wouldn’t have been able to get a warrant on a hunch.”

Chief grit his teeth. “Fred, Bennet and Sam. Now Fred is nuts, Sam is dead, and what the hell will we find when we finally run down Bennet? Shit, Mort. I knew Sam was working on something back then–”

“Yes you did. But again, he didn’t offer and there was no way you were going to drag it out of him. Quit second-guessing yourself, Bob. We did a damned good job back then, within the scope of the current investigation. We had a lot to overcome in ’23, if I remember correctly.”

“And now this is a different investigation but one that crosses the right path.”

Mort nodded. “It crosses the path of that cult.” He closed the manuscript he had and stood. Chief also rose and they left together.

© Copyright 2025 C J Driftwood. All rights reserved.